


Something With Balverines

by Typing_is_the_new_writing



Category: Fable 2
Genre: Adventure Fic, M/M, Smut, Tension, kinda OOC
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-11
Updated: 2020-05-11
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:21:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24127321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Typing_is_the_new_writing/pseuds/Typing_is_the_new_writing
Summary: (In progress)The Hero recruits Rever for some sort of quest in the middle of nowhere, and the pair come out a little worse for wear.
Relationships: Hero of Bowerstone/Reaver (Fable)
Kudos: 10





	Something With Balverines

**Author's Note:**

> Listen - real talk? Reaver is a trash man. He would kill or do any number of terrible things without a second thought. That's why this is out of character. In here, he's less of an actual sociopath and more of just a dick. So yeah, even though I'm writing for this ship specifically, I'm altering Reaver a lot. Because if he was like that, I can't see anyone actually wanting to even talk to him, but it's just a fanfic for a video game. Anyway, enjoy!

Reaver was usually up for anything, but this might’ve been more than he signed up for. 

A few days ago, the Hero and him set off on some mundane quest - something around Westcliff maybe? He didn’t care much for the details, just whatever treasure was going to be on the end of it.

Because that was what it all was about, you know? Money. Fame. Women. If it didn’t involve those three things, he was sure to wash his hands of it as soon as possible.

So far, it was chalking up to having none of those things. So why was he currently stomping down the muddy forest roads with the Hero? He wasn’t quite sure himself. For one, despite all of his complaining, there was something about traveling with another Hero and fighting side by side with them. He never felt that kind of high before, and it was exquisite. It became one of the few things Reaver thought was worth chasing down, apparently. For another, it was supposed to just be something to do. At least, it was something to do that wasn’t in Bloodstone. As much as he adored his little port town, nothing was sacred there.

It was amusing to him now, to think of how he was faring just before leaving with the Hero. Women were throwing themselves at him (like they always did, who could blame them?) but he turned most of them away to focus on paperwork. He hadn’t had a drop of whiskey either, it wasn’t what he craved anymore. His whole life that he nestled up in his port town just ... lost its shine. He needed to do something different. 

That’s when the Hero came into town, knocking on his door. They came in, and talked a little (he always did most of the talking, which was easy since he loved the sound of his own voice), and convinced him to come away with...whatever this was turning out to be. Something in the woods, right? 

Reaver despised the woods for one good reason: balverines. It was no secret, especially to him, but he hated fighting balverines. They would make wonderful allies, if they could just be reasoned with, but alas. There was only a few moments to shoot them before they were too high in the air to be seen, then suddenly right behind you. Then, he was almost helpless. 

Well no, he was never truly helpless. You don’t become a pirate king without the ability to sword fight. He was just ... not as good at it. 

... 

Okay, fine, he was terrible. Piss poor. Absolute rubbish with a sword. He was loathe to think he had shortcomings, but he couldn’t deny that, at least in that department, he was ... subpar. 

It was no matter. He was here with a sidekick, one who was great with a sword and had minimal complaints as a meat shield. They weren’t equals, of course, Heavens no, but even he could appreciate having that much skill at his disposal-

Shit, was that howling? Gods, where’s the blasted beast? 

He looked around furiously, but the tree trunks surrounding them looked empty. He used the word ‘looked’ liberally, because it was almost too dark to see. The Hero turned and they locked eyes, Reaver nodded and readied his gun. The Hero nodded, and sent a fireball straight into the sky.

He caught their eyes flashing. There was three of them. He shot two dead in the eyes, but the third bullet didn’t find its target. Shit, where-

He was knocked to the ground as the balverine landed on top of him, it’s claws lodging into his shoulder. He let out a pained gasp, facedown in the dirt, with a bloody murder machine on him. He struggled to get it off his back, but it just pressed him down with more force. Gods, what was the Hero doing? He’s seconds from getting mauled! He can feel it’s breath on his neck, it’s spittle dripping onto his back-  
the blood from his shoulder is draining onto the ground now, threatening to drown him-  
he’s hasn’t been this close to death in a long time-  
he’s helpless-

A heatwave surges overtop him, and the balverine is knocked off. He scrambles to get up, but as he feels a pain shoot up his arm he knows: he’s going to be useless for a bit. That was his shooting arm, and it’s definitely worse for wear right now. It can’t even bear his weight-

Not the problem right now though, he has to get up. Has to get away. Shit, there’s nowhere to go! He crawls to the nearest tree and props himself up against the trunk, his Dragonstomper clutched in one hand and the other trying to hold his shredded shoulder together. 

There was so much more than those three balverines. He can see half a dozen on the ground, and four more fighting the Hero at present. With a grimace, he takes aim and starts shooting. The shots are sloppy and imprecise, but they’ll have to do. Two more balverines go down before his eyes start going blurry, and when he hears the last one thud on the ground, he finally lets unconsciousness overtake him. 

When he comes to, he can feel someone prodding his shoulder. They’re still by the coast, he can hear the ocean. He’s in a cave, most likely. It’s dark, hopefully he wasn’t unconscious for a day. There’s a small fire before him, but it offers little comfort. His ripped shirt was discarded and he can feel the gentle, solid touch of the Hero.

“If you wished to caress me so, you didn’t have to drag me out here to do it,” his voice was hoarse, “I have plenty-“

Gods, what is that? His shoulder is warming up, it feels like it’s burning, but it doesn’t hurt? He threw his head back and looked at the Hero, accusatory. 

He was focused entirely on Reaver’s shoulder. 

“What- what are you doing? What in the gods is that?”

“Healing you,” he answered tersely, “Now hold still.”

“Hah! Or what? You’ll punish me?”

“I’ll probably end up setting you on fire. Healing spells are real easy to mess up. Also, gross.”

Reaver faced forward again and wiggled his eyebrows, “Well we certainly have potential. Me, with my dastardly good looks and siren-like voice, and you, with, uh, your ... muscles!” He huffed in a mixture of exhaustion and annoyance, “I’m just saying, no one would call you weak if you finally succumbed to my- ugh-,” he hissed, ” -my charms.”

He could feel the bones in his shoulder popping back into place now, the tendons knitting back together. It was ... strange, but not unpleasant. Like grabbing a live wire without any pain; just pure power running through your veins. He sat quietly in awe until the feeling subsided.

The Hero let out a tired sigh and slumped over. “Your turn,” he let out against Reaver’s bare and newly-healed shoulder.

“My turn for what?”

“I healed you, you have to go get food and water.”

“Why? We’re, uh, we’re fine right now,” Reaver insisted, shifting his eyes to the cave’s mouth and the darkness (and possibly balverines) that lay in wait.

“You’re fine right now. I just used a ton of Will to heal you and I’m ... gonna collapse,” the words were coming out with monumental effort, “You owe me, y’know,” his voice was just above a whisper. 

“Fine,” He grumbled. He hated the feeling of being indebted to someone. He’d feed the damn Hero, and that would be it. He got up, carelessly letting the Hero hit the ground. Not his problem. Besides, it seemed like he was already lost to sleep, so ... whatever.  
He donned his shirt again, grabbed his pistol and a water skin, and started his trek. 

The full moon was out tonight, which helped him, but he wasn’t the only one hunting. He’d have to be careful, his deal with the court made him immortal but it sure didn’t make him invulnerable.

Getting food proved easy. There were plenty of rabbits hopping about in the underbrush. Finding fresh water was much harder. Every time he listened for a stream, all he heard was the ocean’s call. He walked in circles for what felt like hours trying to find a stream, a waterfall, anything. He debated just going back with the rabbits and telling the Hero to deal with it, but ... it felt wrong. And the last thing he needed was for the Hero to abandon him here and leave him to try to fend off the balverines himself.

Though ... that seemed out of character. Reaver knew he was a pain in the ass (and proud of it, too), and people only put up with him because the alternative was to get shot, but the Hero never seemed like he would leave. Sure, he got cross with Reaver often, and wouldn’t hesitate to whack him with the butt of his sword if need be, but he wasn’t to the type to just up and go. 

Reaver was, ordinarily. He up and went quite frequently, in fact. A couple times, right into a situation that required help getting out of. Usually it was ... the Hero’s help. 

Well, there was no shame in making a lesser Hero do the hard work, and he could’ve done it himself if need be...  
Yeah. Exactly. He was a skilled Hero. Strong. Capable. Devilishly handsome. Yeah! If he couldn’t find water, there wasn’t water to find. 

He decided that Hero was just going to have to deal with it. He turned around and... uh...

He was lost. Shit. Really puts a dent in the whole “capable Hero” schtick, huh? 

Well, he reasoned, the cave is next to the ocean, and to find the ocean, I just have to keep going towards the sound. Just cut a straight line through. No detours. Yeah.

With renewed purpose, he forged on. On the way, he even found a tiny stream, which was good enough for him. He filled up the water skin and kept going. It was past midnight now, the moon overhead had gone and it was getting darker with each minute. The buzz in his bloodstream from before had long faded and fatigue was starting to settle in his limbs. Gods, how long has he been walking? How big is this twice-damned forest? 

Wait, is that sand up ahead? About time! 

Reaver emerged from the wall of trees, found the cave, and set to work skinning and cooking the rabbits he caught. About halfway through, the Hero beside him woke up coughing. 

“Even I wouldn’t kiss you with your lips chapped like that,” He tossed the water skin to him.

“Thanks,” he took a big gulp and started to sit up, “Glad you came back. Thought you might’ve left me here”

“I had half a mind to.” The rabbits were cooked now, and he took one for himself

“What stopped you?” He chuckled.

“It’d be downright torture to just take my good looks and leave, wouldn’t it?”

“Reaver,” the Hero looked into his eyes, “I’m not interested. I don’t know how many times I have to tell you, but please listen.”

“Well, I’ve never forced anyone to sleep with me, not that I’ve ever needed to-“

“Reaver, I’m serious. Stop batting off everything I say.”

“I seem to recall you asked for my help. If I’m mistaken, then I’ll just-“

“Goddamn it, sit down. You always flee before anyone makes any connection with you. It’s just sex jokes and catty remarks.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“....Goodnight, Reaver.”


End file.
